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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24830356">Am I Your Lock Screen?</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/whenshewrites/pseuds/whenshewrites'>whenshewrites</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>A Collection of One-Shots and Tumblr Prompts [59]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Teen Wolf (TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Cutesy, Derek Hale is Bad at Feelings, Derek Hale is Not a Failwolf, Derek Hale is a Softie, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Idiots in Love, M/M, Monster of the Week, One Shot, Originally Posted on Tumblr, Stiles Loves Derek's Jacket, Stiles Stilinski Loves Derek Hale, Stiles Stilinski is a Tease, The Hale Pack - Freeform, Tumblr Prompt</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-06-21</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-06-21</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-04 04:27:58</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,933</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24830356</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/whenshewrites/pseuds/whenshewrites</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>The thing is, Stiles likes Derek Hale. And it turns out, Derek might like him too.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>A Collection of One-Shots and Tumblr Prompts [59]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1956889</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>33</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>686</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Am I Your Lock Screen?</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">
      <li>For <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/ForeverTheMomFriend/gifts">ForeverTheMomFriend</a>, <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Ice_Mage/gifts">The_Ice_Mage</a>.</li>



    </ul></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    
<p></p><div class="">
<p></p><div class=""><p>The thing is, Stiles liked Derek’s leather jacket.</p></div><div class=""><p>Like, he liked-liked the leather jacket. Not that he’d ever admit that out loud, but if Derek one day walked around in nothing but his leather jacket, Stiles might have a heart attack. He’d literally die.</p></div></div><div class="">
  <p>It was his secret shame. Or… non-shame. Whatever. The point was, Stiles liked the leather jacket.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He also liked the man that wore it.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>It started (or got out of control?) when they were chasing a wendigo through the preserve. You know, as things normally do when one’s life is literally a series of chasing monsters and trying not to die.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>It just so happened to be raining that night as well. Stiles thought that perfectly summed up his life.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Derek Hale was not impressed.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>They’d split up into pairs and because Stiles would never be Allison, he’d been the odd one out. And of course, because Derek would never be a non-grump, he’d been singled out too. Which meant they were perfect for each other. Or something.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Stiles was seriously underdressed for the weather.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He hunched miserably in his red hoodie, the thin material sticking to his arms and chest. It’d been soaked through hours ago and at this point, he thought there was literally no use for it. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Derek didn’t look like he was faring much better. But at least the water slid off of his leather jacket instead of soaking through it, so Stiles thought he had no room to talk. Or not talk, whatever. Derek’s grumpy expression was expressive enough. He looked like he was about to murder someone.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“You know,” Stiles said, wiping water from his face. “We could always call it quits for the night and go back to the loft. I could go for some hot chocolate right now.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“We’re not calling it quits, Stiles.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“I’m just saying, Sourwolf, it wouldn’t kill anyone to put off the search—” Derek gave him an incredulous look and Stiles winced as he listened to his own words, quickly backtracking. “I mean, it might kill someone, but that’s seriously doubtful. Do you really think the wendigo is out in this crappy weather like us? The thing is probably being smarter than we are and hunkering down somewhere warm.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“We’re not calling it quits,” Derek said again, and Stiles resisted the urge to groan. He felt like the cold was sinking into his very bones. He didn’t think he’d ever been so wet in his life.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Fine,” he said, sticking his hands into his pockets even though that did nothing. “But when I catch a cold and die because of this goddamn rain, you better feel guilty.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Derek glanced over, eyes taking in Stiles and his pitifully soaked form as if he was just seeing it for the first time. Which, he probably was. Stiles tried not to roll his eyes, he really did, but they rolled on their own accord.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He couldn’t control it sometimes.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“You’re soaked,” Derek said, as if that wasn’t obvious. Stiles huffed.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“No, Sourwolf, I’m sweating. See all this? It’s sweat.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Are you cold?”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“S—seriously? Dude, I can’t feel my fingers!”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Derek looked constipated for a long moment, hands stuffed into his own pockets. Then, before Stiles could comprehend what was happening, the man was sliding off his leather jacket and pulling it around Stiles’s shoulders.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Stiles didn’t know how to react. He stood there for a moment, mouth hanging open, before he snapped back to reality and tried to shrug the jacket back off.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Dude, no way! Now you’re the one that’s going to get cold!”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Werewolves run hotter than humans,” Derek said, turning away and starting through the trees again. “I’ll stay a lot warmer than you are.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Dude, dude! Stop walking away from me and get back here!”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>But Derek ignored him. Stiles hurried after the man, wrapping the leather jacket around his shoulders so it didn’t slip off. To be honest, the sudden warmth was very welcome and it smelled like Derek— aftershave and pine. But he totally had to give it back. Right?</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Before he could decide, a loud howl cut through the pouring rain. Stiles squawked and pinwheeled around, right as something with glowing yellow eyes leaped out of the darkness.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Derek shoved him sideways seconds before the wendigo cut him to ribbons and Stiles went stumbling, his vision turning to a blur of rain, mud, and faint roars as he hit the ground hard and grunted in surprise. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Stiles heard what sounded like a pained yelp. Then it was cut off by a sharp animalistic scream of agony.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>And the only sound in the night was that of falling rain again.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Stiles scrambled to his feet. Derek’s leather jacket hung at an odd angle as he spun around and squinted against the storm. He could barely see anything in the darkness and the rain in his eyes only made things worse. But Stiles was pretty sure that if the wendigo had won the fight, that wouldn’t matter for much longer.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He heard a crack to the side and yelped, spinning around with flailing limbs. He barely caught sight of glowing red eyes before his fist collided with the side of Derek’s face.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>The man let out a startled growl and stumbled sideways, hand flying up to cradle his face. Stiles squeaked.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Oh my god, dude, I’m so sorry!”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Dammit, Stiles,” Derek said, blinking the red from his eyes. There was a thin gash across his temple, Stiles noticed, but it was already healing and the rain had washed away the blood. The man shook his head and massaged his jaw for a second, before fixing Stiles with a glare. “Come on. We’re going back to the loft.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“What about the others?”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“You can call them when we’re in the car.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Stiles sighed, but didn’t protest. He was cold, he was tired, and now his knuckles hurt. He turned around and took one step forward— and then yelped, stumbling back. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>The wendigo lay at his feet with its throat ripped out, blank yellow eyes gazing upward at the storming sky.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Stiles rammed into Derek’s chest and the man caught his shoulder, steadying him before he could fall. Stiles turned his face away from the wendigo and into Derek’s chest without meaning to, bile rising in his throat. Derek’s grip softened.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Stiles, are you okay?”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“That’s so disgusting, dude.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“I know,” Derek said, chuckling softly. He led Stiles around the body of the wendigo and they started back through the trees. Stiles huddled deeper into his leather jacket, water dripping from his hair and down his nose. Derek’s arm stayed around his shoulders.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>The Camaro wasn’t a far walk, thank goodness. Derek opened the passenger side door and nudged Stiles inside, and he went without a complaint, dropping onto the seat with a wet squelch. He had no doubt he was going to ruin Derek’s fancy leather seats.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>The man didn’t say anything, though, pulling himself into the driver’s side seat with a sigh. He shook his head and sent water droplets flying everywhere and, despite himself, Stiles couldn’t resist barking out a laugh.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Oh my god, dude.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Derek gave him a confused look. “What?”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“You just— you literally just— oh my god, never mind. I hate you sometimes, you know that?”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Derek looked offended. Stiles reached into the man’s leather jacket pockets and thumbed out his phone. It was surprisingly new for the werewolf; Stiles had expected a flip phone or something.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“I’m calling the pack. Do you mind?”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Wait, Stiles, no—”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>But Stiles had already clicked the phone on. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Derek went still next to him, hand inches away from yanking the phone from Stiles’s grasp, and all Stiles could do was stare at the lock screen. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Because… because his own face stared back out at him. One from a picutre he’d taken long ago with the pack, a few days after they’d finished Junior year. Except, the rest of the pack was cropped out. The only thing was Stiles and his grinning face, smile stretching from ear to ear.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Stiles stared at it until the screen went dark again. Then he looked sideways at Derek.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Derek… why am I your lock screen?”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“You weren’t supposed to see that.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Stiles didn’t know what to say. He blinked at the man who had gone a brilliant shade of red, before turning to look at the phone again, turning it back on. He bit down on his lower lip and felt a small smile tugs at the edges of his mouth. “Derek, I’m your lock screen.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Derek made a small noise at the back of his throat and when Stiles looked over again, the man actually looked distressed. Something welled up in his throat. He quickly lowered the phone.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Why?”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Stiles, just give it to me.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>But Stiles pulled the phone into his chest, shying away from Derek’s reaching hand. “Derek, why am I your lock screen?”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Dammit, Stiles, just give it to me!”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Stiles blinked at him. Derek dropped his gaze and drew back his hand.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“It doesn’t mean anything.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>For some reason, that made Stiles’s stomach twist. He loosened his grip on the phone and looked at the man, a surprising emotion of hurt tugging at his heartstrings. “It doesn’t?”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Startled grey-green eyes snapped back up to look at him. Derek didn’t say anything.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Sorry then,” Stiles murmured, passing the phone back over. “It’s uh, a good photo. My dad has that same one framed. Uh, with the entire pack though.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Derek’s ears turned red. He took the phone quietly.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>The car was silent in exception to the raindrops on the windshield, the faint sound of thunder, and the tapping of Derek as he texted the pack group chat. The message went off with a little ting and then Derek just sat there, eyes not raising from the screen.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Stiles nervously wet his lips. He dug out his own phone and flipped it on, nudging Derek’s side. The man looked over in confusion.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Stiles’s lock screen was the grumpy cat meme. Derek raised an eyebrow.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“What is that.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“You refuse to take pictures,” Stiles said, feeling his face turn hot. “But when you get all eyebrow-y, it looks like the Grumpy Cat. So… you know. Lock screen.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Derek’s expression was incredulous. Stiles ran a hand through his wet hair and chuckled nervously. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“That totally doesn’t mean anything either, though.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>When the man looked back at him, his face was soft. Derek nodded and pulled away, slipping the keys into the ignition. Stiles turned off his phone started to slip it away. But then, before he could loose his nerve, he glanced back at the man.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“But you know, there is this thing called taking selfies. You know, something that friends do when they're uh… friends.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Derek raised an eyebrow. Stiles flushed. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Or not.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Friends?”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“I mean, you did lend me a jacket. What’s that supposed to mean, Sourwolf?”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Derek rolled his eyes and Stiles grinned. The man looked constipated for a moment before he turned the car back off and nodded toward Stiles’s phone. Stiles’s heart leaped into his throat. “Really?”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“No one will ever know about this. Or I’ll rip your throat out with my teeth.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>And Stiles couldn’t help grinning.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Because yeah, he liked Derek’s leather jacket. Like, he liked-liked the leather jacket. And if Derek one day professed his undying love wearing nothing but the leather jacket, Stiles would have an aneurysm. He would literally die.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>But he liked Derek Hale too.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>And he thought a lock screen might be a start.</p>
</div>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Written for the prompt: “Am I your lockscreen?” “You weren’t supposed to see that.” and I had so much fun with it. I hope you all enjoyed. As always, I love hearing your comments, and I hope you're all doing well!</p><p>Come hang with me on Tumblr!</p><p>  <a href="https://when-she-writes-stuff.tumblr.com/">the dumpster</a></p></blockquote></div></div>
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